


A Sky Full of Stars

by Ink_Quills



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Deity GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dnf can be interpreted platonically or romanitcally, Dream Smp, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, No beta we die like my eardrums in a manhunt, Tragedy, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:14:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_Quills/pseuds/Ink_Quills
Summary: “I am the sky. I am all-encompassing and never ending, and I am the bridge between the worlds. I am free to move where I please. I am not too passionate like the sun, nor too cold like the stars. I am everything and nothing, and I have written too many stories to count. And I am tired of tragedies.”~*~George is a God, and he is tired of loss.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	A Sky Full of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic on this site, so I hope you enjoy! This is based on my interpretations of their SMP personas, and takes place after the last destruction of L'manburg but before Dream is put in prison. This is very character driven.

_There’s a common misconception that the reason it’s colder and darker in the winter is because the sun is farther away. However, that’s wrong. Unbeknownst to most, we’re actually closer to the fiery passion of the sun in the coldest months. But we are tilted away, ceding its embrace to our southern neighbors. This doesn’t stop us from blaming the distance for the dreary days. But it is us that’s really at fault._

George lifted the quill off the parchment, pensive for a moment as he read through his writing. He would store this last journal among the stars later, for safekeeping. It was ironic, how the world was simply full of cogs and gears, but all humanity saw were the cracks that didn’t exist. Any cracks were borne of the war and strife that civilization had wrought upon the now barren hills. He had watched it happen. The places that were free had shifted into places that were safe, and protection came with a price. Freedom was an absence of control, and so power became the currency in every place short of anarchy.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, and he drifted away from his thoughts for a moment, raising himself up from the grass. He surveyed the reflecting pool in front of him, filled with beautiful coral and gently swaying kelp. This same pond had once held his most treasured possessions in this world, his strongest material attachments, until a man he held dear decided safety superseded freedom. A choice which sent broken shockwaves across an already fragile world. Shockwaves which had only become more violent and deadly. 

George was not a stranger to loss. He considered himself an old friend. He had seen the fall of civilizations. He had watched mentors and friends die to mobs, had seen children and pets fall to their deaths, and had known war and chaos to take a few more. But he had never watched a man become so lost in his own pursuits of what he believed to be good that he was twisted and corrupted, a shadow of his former self. Not until Dream. It had been like watching a beautiful portrait burn in flames of poignant vengeance, transforming it into something crumpled and blackened and not whole. Sickening in all its glory.

That was, perhaps, the essence of the issue. Dream was no longer fully whole. He’d lost a part of himself to what many had before. Power. He had claimed he wanted happiness through protection, and so had destroyed anyone who dared to stand in his way in his pursuit. But safety is never real, and unity is never forever, and so he had played a fool’s game where everyone lost.  
A darker part of George had been almost disappointed that no one had seen past the puzzle clearly enough to realize it had no solution. But that was a cynical, broken part of himself that had become a little twisted too, when Dream fell from grace. Power, he decided, transcended any mortal beings. Its secrets lay in the stars, etched in the dust of time and the rays that had watched a thousand millennia.

A slight breeze blew the pool, his reflection rippling and dividing into a thousand pieces. He startled from his thoughts, glancing at the ruins of the community house which had once been the epitome of all things good and true on the server. It was with its destruction that Dream had lost his final piece, George decided. When he had become more man than monster. The temptation of forbidden fruit, the lure of tragedy, were all fatal flaws and lethal threats that mortality did not emerge from.

The consequences of such atrocities, he thinks, lie in loss. Everyone must lose something dear to them, in their retribution to the stars. An apology for falling to darkness once more, or for letting those around them plummet. As a light flickered on down the path, illuminating a gruesome red vine, George grimaced. The realization that this cycle of violence would never end was not a new one, but it had never stopped hurting. Humans would always strive for power. The stars would always watch. They would both fail. 

Maybe the answer lay in the in-between, in the grey. For the grey was not the absence of good and bad, but the existence of both. And that could be a solution. George knew all about being in-between. His own morality was most certainly grey. His own existence was, as well. The stars were too far to make a change, and the earth too close, but the sky had a chance. He had forced himself to believe that. That one day, the consequences of these choices and actions would be good. 

He walked slowly toward the rubble of the community house. Night had fallen, and he hoped his travels would not be interrupted by anyone. Only in the quiet had he found contentment, and people were always loud. And what he needed to do now was best done alone. But a sinister presence emerged from the vines, sending a chill traveling down his spine.

“Well then, you’ve been quite elusive these days, haven’t you?” A wicked but familiar voice crooned from the path. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Dream.” George spoke, staring up at the sky as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yes, it has been a while, hasn’t it Georgie.” Dream smirked, his words coated with a heavy, saccharine sweetness that made George’s tongue feel chalky and his stomach heavy. His face was uncovered, and the familiarity of it so contrasted with his cruel expression.

George thought back to the last time he had seen Dream, on the day he had been forced to abdicate his throne. It had not been too long ago, but he could barely recognize either of them. A chasm had formed that day, one so cataclysmic it could not be repaired. The throne had not meant much to him, and neither had the crown. But it had given him hope. Someone who is willing to share their power, to speak of their plans to their friends, to allow them some of their own control, that is a person who is not too far gone. He had hoped that Dream would open up to him and let him share his burden. Perhaps he could have been saved, then. 

But the day he was dethroned, the strings finally broke. Dream was determined to have control, and George held too many strings to allow him any power. George would never be a marionette. And puppets were all Dream knew, those days. He knew their world was gone, then. That he had failed again. He did not leave immediately, however. He told himself it was to wait, to see how they destroyed everything they had created. However, his attachments were strong. In this incarnation, he had allowed himself to love in a way he never had before, and he inferred that was why he felt so shattered now. His heart was but shards crushed by the hand of another, and he could almost hear the laughter of the stars, merciless in their fates. Turning his face from the moon, he finally looked Dream in the eye. 

“You’ve changed.” It wasn’t a question. More of a goodbye, as if George was simply relaying what he had always known to be true, one last time. He searched for a sliver of humanity in those emerald eyes, and felt himself become resigned when he didn’t find one.

“I did what I had to. And now we are almost a family again. What divided us is destroyed, and the last few pests will be snuffed out soon enough.” He was presumptuous, his arrogance overshadowing any possibility of failure. George always thought he looked the most beautiful like this, hidden in the shadows with the confidence of a god. It reminded him of home.  
“You possess the control you always wanted.” George murmured, his throat tightening. “I thought this time would be different.” He cursed the stars in all their cold wisdom and warnings. “I thought you might fight for me, this time.” 

Dream’s face morphed into confusion for a moment, “I did this for us Georgie. So we could all be together, at peace. Control was needed in order to achieve this.” He hadn’t expected this reaction, George realized. He’d expected hysteria, or anger. Not the cold, sad understanding that George had presented. 

“No, Dream. You did this for you. Even though I was more involved, more present, it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough in this world, and I haven’t been in any other.” He was choking, he realized faintly. His words were caught by some force other than his own, and he couldn’t even begin to say everything swirling in his brain. The stars twinkled teasingly. He had known that this moment had been coming, and he had been waiting for the right time to destroy it all. Now that L’manburg was a smoking crater, the home of this world was gone. And when the community house had disappeared, so had the heart of it. “It’s over.”

“George?” Dream’s expression wavered and his eyes narrowed, uncertainty in his gaze. “What have you done?” His fingers twitched, George noted, as he finally put all the pieces together.  
George sighed, an admission of truth. “They were all too busy looking at you, the man who was almost a god, to see the real God hiding in his shadow. It was easy to disappear and be overlooked, to fade into the background and become as neutral as they come. But I was never really neutral. Not with you, at least. I gave too much and hoped too much and here we are.” He gestured to the destruction around them with a mirthless laugh. 

“We can do this together then, Georgie. This doesn’t have to end, the game can continue.” Dream cooed, smart enough to grasp where this was going. “There are so many pieces to move, so many pawns. So much potential for entertainment. You know me, Georgie. Please?” He cracked a smile, the same one that had once left George light and bubbly, that never used to fail to make him happy.

“Oh, Dream,” George whispered sadly, moving closer “You were my most beautiful creation and my worst triumph. I build these worlds again and again. But they always end the same. All the world’s a stage, and humanity is no comedy. This place is wholly flawed, and maybe one day I will get it right, but until then I write only tragedies.” He placed a cold hand on Dream’s cheek, letting it lie there as tears filled his green eyes.

“All of this is you?” Dream choked, leaning closer into George’s embrace as realization set in. “What are you, then? How can you do these things? And why must you destroy us all, Georgie?” A flicker of fear darted across his expression. He had lost and won too much to give it all up now, but he would be forced to. It was never his choice. The only one with any real power here had always been George. And now the world would fade from existence as if it had never been there at all, and Dream would go with it. Dream still loves him, George thinks. In the twisted, manipulative, only way he knows.

“I am the sky. I am all-encompassing and never ending, and I am the bridge between the worlds. I am free to move where I please. I am not too passionate like the sun, nor too cold like the stars. I am everything and nothing, and I have written too many stories to count. And I am tired of tragedies.” His eyes traveled again to the heavens, sending a silent prayer that one day, the pages might finally be filled and the cover slowly closed. Until then, he could only inscribe sorrow into his endless symphonies. “I’m sorry.”

“I love you.” Dream exhaled, and for a moment George saw something that might be worth saving in those eyes. Perhaps he had been wrong before. Perhaps everyone was worth saving. But the stars flickered, and George knew that history had already been decided. It was too late.

“Close your eyes.” George whispered, not responding as his breath hitched slightly. Dream obliged, and the world faded away around them, dust spiraling into the heart of their home. The last thing he saw was Dream’s sparkling eyes opening one final time. 

When he appeared again, he was nowhere. And finally, he cried.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are very appreciated, as is constructive criticism. I'm always looking to improve my writing!  
> Thank you for reading. :)


End file.
